


An Offering

by orphan_account



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Ficlet, Gen, Male Protagonist, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Past Tense, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-04
Updated: 2002-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	An Offering

I had many reasons to face the terrifying future. All the reasons in the world. The weight of generations and peoples pushed me forward. And what was pushing me back? Only my own fear.

Fear spoke to me constantly. The weight of my appointed destiny pushed, speechless, needing no explanation or justification; the fear was never silent. "They will depend upon you, they all will fall or thrive by your word and hand," it said. "Your hand! It is feeble and it fails. You watch and listen and work, but no single man can be watchful enough, or skillful enough, to carry an entire people."

I wished someone else had been the one chosen by blood and destiny to be king. I wished this had come upon a giant, and not myself. I was only Estel. I was a child, faced with centuries. My ninety years were called upon to answer for an age of the world.

In the end I did not do it for the music of cheers and horns that greets a king returning home in glory; I did not do it for my Arwen, my love and queen. I did not do it for a host of those reasons that bore down upon me; the least of all I did it for me, and I did not even do it to stay the darkness and preserve what good remained in the world.

The shifting light falling between the leaves at Amon Hen, a forest's sigh surrounding our scene of carnage - that stands in my memory as clear as this very present moment. The rush in my blood had fallen to bitter stillness as our enemies lay dead or ran far ahead of us, beyond our weapons' reach. His skin under my hands, still warm. Oh, the weight of his body, now the spirit had fled! He had loved our people so. He had loved them better than his own soul and honour.

In the end, I did it for Boromir.


End file.
